I’m very much a middle child—went after academic success to make up for not getting the attention I thought I wanted. My brother, 20, and sister, 26, taught me to be fun but at the same time, their playfulness led me to become a bit more serious. Throughout middle and high school, I was a tall, lanky kid with curly hair, braces, and thin wireframe glasses. Yeah, I don’t know how I had friends either.

Growing up, I was oblivious to the fact that I was a first generation American. My parents emigrated to the US from Iran and despite being born in LA, Persian is my first language. Everyone I knew was an Iranian Jew. In reflecting, I’ve become incredibly grateful for the strong community I grew up in. The values espoused on me—hospitality, compassion, community—really stuck.

I grew up in “The Valley,” and it wasn’t until I went to UCLA that I truly felt like an Angeleno. And it wasn’t until I moved close to downtown that I felt like it was my city.

Swipe Out Hunger allows university students to donate their unused meal points to their peers and community members who are struggling with hunger. On average, a university student with a meal plan will have 10-20 prepaid meals a week. If they don’t use them, those points roll over [until the end of the school year] and leave the students often with hundreds of dollars in unredeemable funds. Our program allows them to do something meaningful with them. 

We all know that pang of guilt or sadness when we pass a person who is homeless on the street. As “broke” college students, it felt like there was little we could do. This is where meal swipes come in. They were always in excess. All our group did was make a sign and give students a chance to do something meaningful with their swipes. It wasn’t until a year or so later that we realized the power and potential of scale for the idea.

Since our start at UCLA, we’ve grown onto over 20 campuses and served over 1.2 million meals. Most critically, our newest initiative channels these funds to students in need. Nationally, 1 in 7 students are food insecure. In California, that number is 1 in 4.

It was finals week during our senior year. We were given two weeks notice. It was unreal and unbelievable until the moment we were in the Eisenhower building, walking down the marble walkways, waiting to be addressed by President Obama. I won't forget how I felt—so small and at the same time, so defined. I allowed myself to realize what we were doing at UCLA was beyond our campus, beyond Los Angeles, it was something that had grown beyond me. As a 20-year old, it’s hard to grasp anything that is larger than you—that also is you.

It also changed our narrative—we were no longer kids breaking the rules. We were innovators, leaders, and questioners of the status quo.

Ha, I don’t think I’ve shared this story publicly. In 2012, the team—all volunteers at the time—decided we should bring someone on full-time. I worked up the courage to suggest myself as that person. The team was supportive but one member, a man a few years older than me responded with “Oh, I hadn’t really thought of it...I just think you’d be too nice for the position”

It was incredibly deflating. I shared with my mentor Jeremy, who was helping me with our chapter growth. He challenged me to not be stopped by one person’s feedback. Who was he to say? Then I did everything I thought an incoming CEO should. Developed a job profile, budget, etc. I kept proving my capacity and earned the role.

In September 2013, I moved back to Los Angeles, walked into a Starbucks, took a seat, opened my laptop and started my first day as Executive Director. It was an incredible moment. Throughout my first year, I was constantly proving to myself and everyone around me that I could do it. This led to 80-100 hour work weeks.

I love sharing our story. Anytime someone asks what I do, my response takes about 60 seconds as opposed to just a job title. I’m pretty shameless about it. It’s a part of my job. I’m our best marketing tool.

 I really struggle with being a “boss.” I think there are two reasons why: I’m only 24, and I’m constantly questioning if I truly know what’s best. This leads me to opening (maybe a few too many) decisions to the whole team or not declaring something. I struggle with commanding and owning the power my role demands.

My first big mistake was believing every piece of advice I was given was true—just because the person seemed “legit.”

For the first year and a half, I was having 6-8 coffee meetings a month, constantly striving to learn from and leverage the wisdom of others. I had one meeting with a man who was middle aged, white, rich, privileged (you get the picture) and he said line after line of things I should be doing. People I should know. I sat there feeling so defeated, any sense of confidence had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t get a word out.

I was speaking to a coach afterwards, and we realized that I reacted this way simply because I thought that because of his status, I had to believe what he said was true and that I really was behind on my work. It was a relief to realize this.

My first formal mentor was Jeremy Forman, a serial entrepreneur I met in 2012. A critical lesson Jeremy gave me was to think systemically. To build forms, have filters that phase out wastes of time, to think about scale always, etc.

More importantly, though, Jeremy taught me to believe in myself. He told me I should pursue my dream of doing this full-time, even when others told me I didn’t have what it takes. It meant a lot to have someone “successful” believe in me. Over the past year, I’ve made an effort to find more women who could mentor me. One reason is because I want to be reminded that it is possible to be a badass business lady and have a beautiful family. It’s not one or the other.

While our days consist of different activities and realities, I always felt close and connected to homeless individuals. While I don’t work directly with any through Swipe Out Hunger, I did from 2012-13. After graduating from UCLA, I moved to Chicago and became a social worker. I spent a year helping people who were homeless or in poverty get back on their feet. What was critical was deep empathy and humility. I cannot fathom the emotional toll or realities of being homeless, so I could never assume I knew. That year made me a good listener and I hope, a better person.

A few moments stands out. Last month, we were featured in The New York Times. It was an incredible moment of validation and sheer joy. Second, was the SVP Fast Pitch in Oct 2014. I had to pitch against nine other organizations to an audience of 600 potential investors. By the end of the night, I was titled the winner and walked away with $30,000. It put us on the map in Los Angeles for sure. Finally, I have a moment of triumph almost every week. On each phone call where a student comes to us and says “We did it—the school has agreed to launch a Swipes program.” And the words don’t matter—just seeing that we’ve given a student the chance to  be passionate and enthusiastic about something.

Before I walk into any room where I might network, I remind myself: ”You are a badass. Anyone would be lucky to hear your story.” Saying these words gives me my power back, and I walk into any room ready to take on anything. I even started doing this before dates, ha.

Fundraising requires an obvious show of humility so I have a different affirmation for those meetings.

Secondly, I have networking games. One of my favorites is to see how little I can talk. Once I get posed a question I’m genuine but short in my answer and deflect a question back to them. After a few rounds of this, the person opens up and shares personal and real parts of themselves. Now, the conversation isn’t exhausting networking talk.

This is weird and avoiding the question, but I’m looking forward to getting older. I get to meet incredibly accomplished people who are a bit older and in the social impact space, and I can’t wait to have their stories. I want to build communities, I want to change systems, I want to fall in love, I want to build companies, I want to get arrested (for protesting, of course), I want to have my interests and passions grow and change. I want to have this desire to experience life in meaningful ways guide my career choices.